Courtney Wallace
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: I met Gil and Sara on a Sunday night. I never liked Sunday nights.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: See below.

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Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

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_Children have neither past nor future; they rejoice in the present. - Jean de la Bruyere_

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I met Sara and Gil on a Sunday night. I never liked Sunday nights. Sundays are supposed to be the start of a new week. But really, they're just the end of one.

It was the last Sunday in August. School was starting on Monday. The first day of ninth grade. I was kind of excited. A new school with new people…I could be a totally new person if I wanted. Someone cool and mysterious. Or maybe super popular.

The funny thing is that I ended up being the only thing anyone could talk about on that first day. But only because I was dead. And that really doesn't count.

They found my body in the woods by Lake Mead. Some guy was walking his dog or something and found me. I wasn't there. I didn't like hanging out with my body, especially after things started crawling on it. That's just seriously gross.

But when the police showed up, I kinda felt like I had to go watch. They put that yellow tape up all around me, just like on TV. There were a few reporters who tried to take some pictures. One of the policemen yelled at them to stop.

"Captain Brass," one of the reporters asked him. "Is it her?"

Captain Brass looked really tired. I bet he's been doing this job for, like, fifty years. "That hasn't been determined yet," he told the reporter. "Take anymore pictures, and I'll confiscate every single one of those cameras. Got it?"

Did I mention that I was naked? Yeah, that was so embarrassing. I didn't have a lot going on in the chest department. I was really hoping they'd get bigger in high school. I looked like a boy lying there. Except for not having a…well…you know.

I was actually getting kind of bored and was thinking about leaving when they suddenly arrived. They came together in a big black SUV. Gas guzzlers. I was in the environmental club in junior high.

They ducked under the crime tape like I used to duck under those stupid velvet ropes at the movie theater. They were carrying silver briefcases. The man had a jacket on that said "Forensics" on the back. Crime scene people like on TV. I knew that much, even though I wasn't allowed to watch those shows. Too much blood and guts, my mom said. I didn't really care. I liked shows with romance.

"Gil…Sara," Captain Brass greeted them.

You know how names kind of fit people? Like you can look at someone and say, 'she's totally a Heather,' and 'he's so a Chad.' Well, they were totally a Gil and a Sara.

Gil is like an old man's name, and he was kind of old. His hair was going grey. He reminded me of my junior high science teacher, Mr. Lapinski. He always said I was his best student. Not in a creepy way, just in a nice teacher way.

My best friend in fifth grade was named Sarah. I remember she said it meant 'princess.' I didn't believe her until I looked it up online. Well, this lady didn't really look like a princess, but she was kind of pretty. She was the only person so far who looked at me and didn't immediately look away. That was nice.

"Is it her?" she asked Captain Brass.

I'd been following the story of my disappearance. Everyone was wondering where I was, if I was safe, and would I come home again? People were praying for me, crying for me…it was really cool. I was popular.

Captain Brass nodded. "Courtney Wallace. Fourteen. Found her purse about a hundred yards away. Had her junior high ID in it." He shook his head. "She looks like she's been here since she went missing."

"The bugs will tell us for sure," Gil said. I would have told them if they could have heard me. But I'd already tried talking to people who were still alive, and it didn't work. That sucked. I'd always believed in ghosts, but it turns out it's just a bunch of crap. We're here, but we can't do a darn thing!

Gil walked over to my body and picked something off of it. Ew! It was a maggot! "Second instar," he said, like that was supposed to mean something. "Sara?"

She already had a glass jar ready, and she handed it to him. I figured she'd done this a lot. While Gil collected maggots from my body…so freaking gross…Sara started circling around me, taking pictures. Every now and then she'd say something.

"She looks posed."

And then, "Killer might have kept her clothes as a souvenir."

"Looks like ligature marks around her wrists. Maybe we can pull some trace."

Gil stood up and looked around. "No one, especially a child, should have to die in such a beautiful place."

I was a little pissed at the "child" thing. I was fourteen after all. Just because I didn't have boobs yet, doesn't mean I was little kid.

"She wasn't a child," Sara said softly, and I suddenly liked her even more. "But she never got a chance to be a woman."

I don't think anyone but me noticed when Gil put his hand on her shoulder. Up until then, I figured they just worked together. But he looked at her and it was totally not how my teachers looked at each other. She kind of reached up and touched his hand for, like, a second before she started taking pictures again.

I think it was right then that I decided to stick around, to see if Gil and Sara would figure out who killed me. Or to see them make out.

Whichever came first.

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To Be Continued

A/N: This story was definitely inspired by (but not modeled after) Alice Sebold's amazing book, "The Lovely Bones," which I listened to on CD driving from Florida to California. I highly recommend it. I cried my way across the country;)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I can't tell you how happy I was that the first chapter of this story was so well-received. Thank you everyone who took the time to read it and review it.

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Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

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I was really glad that they didn't let my mom see me in the morgue. I don't think she would handled it very good. The man who did my autopsy was even older than Gil. He would have made an awesome Santa Claus.

Gil and Sara didn't come to the autopsy until after I was all sewn up again. The doctor and his assistant had gotten rid of the maggots…thank god…and covered me up to my chest with a white sheet.

"Cause of death?" Gil asked Dr. Santa.

"Asphyxiation due to manual strangulation," he replied, and even though they were big words, I knew what he meant. Sometimes, I could still feel hands around my throat. I hope that goes away eventually.

"Sexual assault?" Sara asked.

He nodded. "I collected a kit."

I really didn't want to remember that, so I looked at Sara instead. She had one of those faces that could say a lot even if she wasn't saying anything. It was my new favorite thing to do. Trying to figure out what Sara was thinking.

"She put up a fight. Found a lot of fingernail scrapings," Dr. Santa told Gil.

"Good girl," Gil said. Because he said it kind of sweetly, I almost forgave him for calling me a child earlier. "Anything else?"

"She was definitely tied up, but with what I can't say." He shook his head. "I was hoping she wouldn't end up on my table."

"We all were," Sara said.

I don't think she was feeling sorry for me when she said it. She was just sad. Not sad like my mom, who couldn't stop crying, but like guilty sad. Like when you hear about starving children in Africa, and you think 'I wish I could do something about that,' but you know you really can't do much.

"Take care of her," she told Dr. Santa.

It would have been nice if I could have told her that she already was.

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Captain Brass was growing on me. He'd been really good with my mom when he'd had to break the news that it was my body in the woods. He'd let her cry on his shoulder and had pretended not to be uncomfortable about it. And he hadn't looked down her blouse, even though he could have. Most guys could stare for hours at Mom's boobs. In college, she got paid to show them off on stage. I wasn't supposed to know that.

He gave her the number of a grief counselor. I really hoped she'd go. It used to be just Mom and me. And now it was just Mom.

In the days that followed, Captain Brass actually interviewed my killer. I know it wasn't his fault that he didn't realize it. He wasn't psychic or anything. And he had a lot of people he had to interview. Sometimes Sara or Gil went along to talk to someone who might have seen me last. But neither of them were with him when he talked to my killer. I like to think that if Sara had been there, she would have known.

I didn't sit in on many of these interviews. But when I did, I liked hearing what people had to say about me. No one remembered that I was skinny or that I had braces or that I'd gotten a C in English last year. In the interviews, I was "so lovely" and "so precious" and "so smart." Even Mrs. Abbott down the road said I was a firecracker, and that woman's had it out for me ever since I ran my bicycle into her stupid ferns when I was ten.

I think being dead makes you seem better than you were when you were alive. Maybe that's why people commit suicide. They want nice things said about them. If people would say nice things about other people while they were alive, there might not be so many people killing themselves.

But I didn't kill myself, and I didn't want to die. Dr. Santa was right when he said I'd fought back. I'd kicked and screamed and clawed. But my killer was a lot bigger than me. On nature shows, they say that if you're attacked by a shark, you should poke it in the eye and it'll let you go.

It doesn't work with people.

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It was okay with me that Sara went through my room. Someone had done it already, back when I was just a missing girl, and people thought I might have run away. They looked through my diary, went over my computer files, checked to see what I was reading and even looked under my bed.

Sara did all of those things, too. But I didn't mind it when she did it. Because Sara wasn't looking for evidence that I'd met some guy online and run off to be with him. She just wanted to know me better.

So she read my diary and smiled when I talked about how stupid every single boy in junior high had been, and how English class never made any sense, not like math class always did. She checked my computer and found out that the only buddies on my list were friends from school. Before I disappeared, I was reading Harry Potter. I had the whole collection. I had better still be around when the last book finally came out. Maybe I wouldn't be able to read it, but I'm sure I could overhear someone talking about it.

She looked at my stuffed animals, my old textbooks, my collection of glass miniatures. Mom had left everything exactly as it was that last morning. I really wished I'd made my bed. But I never made my bed. What was the point?

Sara picked up a framed picture of me and my mom riding Pharaoh's Fever. Not the world's greatest photo of me. I was so glad they'd used my school picture when they were looking for me. It wasn't half-bad. Much better than this one of me screaming. She shook her head and put it down.

"Fourteen is so hard," Sara said out loud. For a second, I thought maybe she had some idea that I was there, and that she was talking to me. But she wasn't. She was just talking. "I remember. But there's so much beyond it. And I'm sorry you never got to find that out."

Her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen before she answered, "Hi there."

It's hard listening to one side of a phone conversation. It's like having half of a puzzle.

"I'm in Courtney's bedroom…no, just acquainting myself…I'm leaving in a minute…I hadn't even thought about dinner…surprise me." She smiled. "Yeah. A sleepover would be nice…see you soon."

While she was putting my diary back in my nightstand, I whispered my killer's name in her ear. Even though I knew it wouldn't work, I wanted her to hear me. I wanted her to be the one who figured everything out.

Sara left me alone in my bedroom. I didn't blame her. I wished I had somewhere else to be. Mom started crying ten minutes after Sara was gone. I really tried to talk to her, to tell her that it wasn't her fault. I walked to McDonald's all the time when she was at work and I didn't have school. I guess my killer knew that. It wasn't Mom's fault. It wasn't Sara's fault.

It was kind of my fault.

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To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Most characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I really appreciate all the reviews I've gotten on this story in such a short amount of time. Thank you very much. Also, I cannot say enough about my beta, PhDelicious, who not only puts up with constantly getting mail from me, but also cheers me up when I'm down. Thank you, hon:)

On another note though, anyone who knows me knows that I can handle constructive criticism. I've been trained to develop a thick skin about my writing. So negative reviews don't bother me. In fact, I try to learn from them. But I what I find distasteful is when someone who didn't like chapter one, left a review saying so...but comes back for chapter two and leaves an even less constructive message. If you don't like this story there's something very simple you can do. Don't read it. If you have something to say about it that you think I could benefit from, at least have the courage to leave your email address, so we can exchange thoughts. That's all. Just had to get that one off my chest.

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Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

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I already had my favorite people at Gil and Sara's lab.

I liked Greg because he was really cute. His hair was all floppy and I always wanted to play with it. He seemed like the kind of guy who would let you. I also liked him because he made people smile. Even when you could tell that they really didn't want to.

Nick was kind of cute, too, and I liked his accent. Catherine reminded me a lot of my mom for some reason. I only saw Warrick a couple of times. He was always talking on his cell phone with someone named Tina.

Sometimes it was fun just to stand next to the soda machine and watch them come in and out. They drank a lot of coffee. And they talked about stuff like accelerated putrefaction and gas-liquid chromatography and striations. It was like listening to another language that only they spoke.

Sometimes they'd talk about each other, and that was even more fun. They talked about Grissom a lot. It took me awhile to figure out that was Gil's last name. I think they all liked him. He was kind of like a camp counselor. He was in charge of them, but he had his own boss, too. That was Ecklie, who no one seemed to like.

I didn't really like Gil until four days after my body was found.

It wasn't that Gil was a bad guy. And it wasn't anything he did or said. But let's say there was someone in your class named Melissa who was really horribly mean to you. For the rest of your life, every time you meet someone named Melissa, you're always going to think of that really mean girl. You know? It was kind of like that.

Even though I didn't like him, Gil was one of the good guys. And he did want to find out who had killed me. His way of doing that had something to do with the maggots he'd picked off my body back in the woods.

I always thought maggots were just worms. But it turns out, they're baby flies. They hatched after about a day. Gil killed a few of them and pinned their bodies to a big, white board. The others he let live. He fed them hamburger meat.

I'd really wanted to be a vegetarian like Sara. I was so excited when they ordered lunch one day, and she got a meatless hot dog. I'd stopped eating red meat during eighth grade. Mom said I could only stop eating chicken and pork when I started eating beans and lentils. Something about protein and iron. I wasn't really paying attention, because beans and lentils are gross.

On the fourth day, Gil and Sara were in his office, which looked like the science lab at my old school with all the dead animals in jars. It was really late at night. They didn't go home very often, but whenever they did, they always came back looking like they hadn't slept. I didn't think it was right to follow either of them home to see if they did or not. At least not until I knew them better.

Gil was hunched over his work table, studying the hamburger meat he was keeping under a little mesh tent. There were already maggots crawling all over, and this seemed to make him happy. I was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, playing with my hair. I had a lot of bad features, but my hair was pretty nice. Long and brown…chestnut, my mom called it. I'd gotten to play Rapunzel in third grade because of it.

"Four days," Gil said out loud. I scowled at him. He was going to wake up Sara.

She had been sitting at the desk looking through the pictures she'd taken of my body. But now, she was asleep. Her head had fallen forward on her arm; her fingers were almost touching my foot.

"Sara." He kept talking without even looking up to see why she wasn't answering. "She'd been dead for four days. The bugs tell the tale."

Finally, he looked at her and realized what I already knew. I thought maybe he'd be upset that she'd fallen asleep while they were working. But he just smiled and took off his glasses.

I drew my knees up to my chest when he walked over to the desk. Kneeling down, Gil moved Sara's hair off her face. She really was pretty, especially when she was sleeping and her eyebrows weren't all scrunched up like she was thinking too hard.

But I didn't like the way he looked at her. It wasn't a good look. I remembered that look. I wished I could create a distraction or something. Move some papers on his desk. Make his pig in a jar fall and break.

She opened her eyes when he started stroking her cheek. Instead of getting away from him like I wanted her to, she just whispered, "Someone could come in."

Gil shook his head. "They're all in the field. Do you want to go home? Get some real sleep?"

Sara lifted her head from her arm and yawned. "I'm fine. My second wind will kick in soon." She looked at the meat under the little tent. Her nose twisted up like mine did whenever Mom talked about lentils. "Got anything yet?"

"She died on Thursday," Gil said. "The day she disappeared."

I guess it was kind of cool that he figured that out. Now if only he'd quit looking at Sara like he wanted to do bad things to her.

Sara started rubbing her eyes. They looked kind of reddish. "He must have planned to kill her if he took her all the way out there. It wasn't just a rape that got out of hand."

I hadn't let myself think about my actual murder much since I realized I was dead. It was this fuzzy memory that was always there, though. If I actually thought about it, I could remember everything. And I didn't want to do that.

Gil put his fingers through hers, the way Brandon Prigge had when we went to the movies together in seventh grade. I hadn't minded, even though his palm was kind of sweaty. I guess he was my first boyfriend. I was really glad I'd had a boyfriend, although he did move away the summer before eighth grade. He was probably the only not-stupid boy I ever knew.

"Are you having trouble with this one?" he asked her.

I watched her face really carefully. She didn't want to say 'yes'; you could actually see it. But she ended up nodding. I guess she can't lie to him. Or maybe he'd know if she did. "I don't know why," Sara said in this sad voice.

And that was when he kissed her.

Brandon had kissed me, but I wouldn't French. I think I should have because now, whenever I think about kissing, all I can feel is my killer's tongue in my mouth. And I want to choke.

But Sara wasn't choking. And she wasn't trying to make him stop. She actually seemed to like kissing Gil.

I wasn't going to count this as them making out, because they didn't even kiss for, like, a minute before they both pulled away. Sara's cheeks were pink.

"You sent everyone away on purpose, didn't you?" She sounded like she was scolding him, but she was smiling, too. "So we could be alone?"

Gil winked. It was kind of weird to see him do that. "You know me too well."

He stood up and walked back over to his meat. Sara watched him go. "Maybe." Gil put his glasses on again. "Hey," she called out to him, making him look at her. "You make me very happy."

Even though he didn't say anything back, you could just tell he was thinking the same thing. So, I guess I had to like him.

A little.

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When I wasn't at the lab or at home, I was at the high school. Even though I'd never really been a student there, a lot of my old classmates from junior high had gotten together and put up one of those shrines to me in the main hallway. For the first week of classes, it stayed up, and everyone who passed by couldn't help but look at it.

Sometimes they'd stop and talk about me.

_"God, I can't even imagine being murdered."_ Neither could I until it happened.

_"Her killer's, like, out there somewhere. I bet he's crazy insane."_ Maybe. But you'd never guess it in a million years.

_"I heard she was cut the fuck up."_ Not even.

_"It's really sad. Shit! We're gonna be late for bio!"_

On Thursday, a week after I died, the flowers in my shrine started to turn brown. The candles had to be blown out because they could be a fire hazard. The tape holding my picture up to the wall started to lose its stickiness, and one corner drooped down. On Friday afternoon, after all the kids had gone home, the janitors cleared it away. No one seemed to notice it was gone on Monday morning.

Maybe if I'd gone to the school, even for a few days, it would have been different. But I never had a locker of my own. I never checked anything out from the library. I didn't join any clubs or play any sports. I didn't really exist there. And I'd already graduated from the junior high, so I didn't exist there anymore either.

Sometimes it seemed like the only person who remembered me, besides Gil and Sara and my mom, was my killer.

I don't really like using the word 'he' when I'm thinking about my killer, because my killer stopped being a person to me when everything went black and suddenly I was standing over my body. And my killer was still on top of it. That person became my killer. I can't describe it any other way.

My killer took my clothes home. They lay on the bed, and sometimes my killer would lie on top of them. Maybe they still smelled like me. My killer would call my name and start touching that thing that hurt me so much. I would leave when my killer did that, and go to the lab. If Sara wasn't there, I'd hang out with Greg while he worked. He played music and sang along really badly and I'd stop feeling my killer between my legs.

Gil and Sara think I might have been the first person my killer ever killed. They had someone from the FBI do a profile, which was basically just a lot of guessing about what my killer might be like. The profile said my killer had probably killed before. But Gil and Sara disagree. They think my killer was too sloppy, that there was too much evidence left behind, that someone who had killed before would be better at it.

My killer told me I was the first, the only, that there was no else and couldn't ever be anyone else. But my killer also told me that it was too hot outside and my hot fudge sundae would melt if I didn't get in the car. My killer said if I did what I was told, I could go home. My killer sat across from Captain Brass and told a story about being on a fishing trip when I disappeared, and even offered to show Captain Brass the fish.

My killer lied a lot.

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To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the reviews, the good, the bad, and the ugly:) I don't think I made it clear enough last time that I do appreciate them all. As always, muchos appreciation to my beta, who lets me bug her when she's trying to work, and my chat buddies, who are the classiest, yet smuttiest broads I know;)

I'm only mentioning this here because I don't really have any other forum to widely respond to several things I've heard about my OC. I'm getting mixed reviews...some think she's great, others think I'm not doing so well writing her. And I honestly cant't tell what the problem is. One person says she's too much of a cliche of a fourteen year old... the next person says she doesn't sound like a fourteen year old at all. See my problem? I can't seem to win. So I'll just say this. I'm going to keep writing Courtney as she comes to me. That's all I can do.

BTW, I hate putting these notes and making a big deal out of things because, really, I just want to tell you a story:)

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Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

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Honestly, my funeral was boring.

I was starting to think I'd never have one, and that my body was just going to stay in Dr. Santa's freezer forever. I guess they had to keep it in case they missed anything. But eventually my mom said that enough was enough, and they shipped me to a funeral home. It took about a minute of watching the funeral home guy drain my blood before I got out of there.

The next time I saw my body, I looked a whole lot better. They'd done my hair in nice curls all around my shoulder, and put enough makeup on me so I didn't look completely white. They'd also covered up the bruises on my neck. Mom didn't need to see them.

Mom and I weren't crazy religious, but we did go to church when we could. And not just on holidays. So when the minister talked about me, he actually knew what he was talking about. And he sounded genuinely sad that I was gone. I wasn't just some murdered kid he had to feel bad about.

The church was full of people, but I didn't recognize most of them. They were people who'd heard about me on TV or read about me in the paper. They didn't know me, but it was nice that they came to remember me. A lot of them were crying. I get that when bad things happen to kids, people freak out. But it all just seemed a little…fake. Like they weren't really crying for me.

My mom wasn't crying. But she wasn't blinking either, and that worried me. My grandmother had come all the way from Georgia; she sat with Mom through the service. They didn't like each other, though. Grandma was the one who had told me about Mom stripping in college. She told me to work hard in school so I wouldn't have to be a whore, too. Grandma kinda sucked. She wasn't crying either.

I wasn't surprised that Sara came, but I was a little surprised that Gil came with her. I figured he'd stay at the lab and work. They sat in a pew a couple rows back from my mom and grandma, and few in front of my killer.

Yeah, my killer came to my funeral. There were people all around my killer crying and asking God how anyone could do such horrible things to a child. And my killer nodded right along with them. It made me really mad. But it's not like I can do anything about it.

I sat next to Sara during the service. Gil was holding her hand the whole time. They didn't cry. I think if they cried for everyone whose murders they help solve, they wouldn't have any tears left for when something bad happens to them.

During the moment of silence, when everyone's heads were bowed, Sara started looking around. Not really obviously, but enough that I guess she didn't want anyone to see her looking. I realized…she was looking for my killer.

I pointed to my killer. I said my killer's name. And I think, for like a second, Sara looked right at my killer.

Then everyone lifted their heads and she turned back around. My killer didn't seem to notice. It was an open casket, and my killer hadn't ever stopped looking at my body.

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After the church service, everyone got into their cars and drove to the cemetery. Everyone except Gil and Sara. Their pagers went off at the same time, and they went straight to the police station. I went with them. I didn't really want to see my coffin get dirt dumped on it.

Captain Brass had been the one who paged them. He was waiting when the three of us walked into his office.

"Eyewitness came forward," he said. "Says she saw Courtney get into a car near the McDonald's on Bellevue the day she disappeared."

"Can she describe the car?" Gil asked.

"And the driver?" Sara asked. I thought her question was better.

Captain Brass sighed, like he had bad news to tell them, too. "Maybe. When she sobers up." They looked at him, and he added, "Homeless. Drunk. She passed out right after telling us this. She's in the tank."

Sara started frowning, which really hides how pretty she is. "How long until we can talk to her?"

"Her BAL was through the roof," Captain Brass said. "It'll be awhile."

A lot of what Gil and Sara do is just waiting around. Waiting for the machines to finish running, waiting for the Hodges guy to shut up, waiting for people to tell them things they need to know, waiting for the maggots to hatch. They're always waiting for something. It gives them a lot of time to go over what they already have and already know.

While they waited for the homeless woman to not be drunk anymore, they talked about my murder. They called it 'running the timeline.'

"Nine a.m. Courtney's mother leaves for work." They'd ordered lunch and Sara had gotten a veggie burger and fries. I gotta say, one of the worst things about being dead is not being able to eat. Not that you get hungry. But when you see someone eating something really good in front of you, it sucks.

Gil stole a fry from her. He hadn't ordered his own. "Eleven-thirty a.m. Courtney walks to McDonald's for lunch. She had a chicken sandwich in the restaurant. The surveillance tape shows her ordering a hot fudge sundae and leaving with it at twelve-ten."

"Not too many of those," Sara said when he took another fry. "Be nice to your arteries."

"My arteries are fine," he told her.

"And we're going to keep them that way." She moved her fries away from him. "Five p.m. Courtney's mother arrives home, finds Courtney missing."

"Six p.m. Amber Alert is issued." He'd already forgotten about the fries, and had his thinking face on. "It takes an hour to get from the McDonald's to Lake Mead."

Sara had stopped eating and started reading something. "All Doc found in her stomach was some milky fluid. Remnants of her ice cream?"

"Or what masquerades as ice cream at McDonald's. Food passes completely out of the stomach at around four hours after consumption. So she died no earlier than four p.m. And since we know the first flies arrived on the same day, TOD was sometime between four and midnight. Maybe our inebriated witness can narrow that down some."

"From the bruising on her wrists, he had her tied up for a long time." Sara took a fry but didn't eat it. "She must have been so scared."

Mostly, I'd just wanted to go home. I still do.

Gil put his hamburger down and wiped his fingers on a napkin. He's always neat and clean, even when he's playing with bugs and looking at bodies. He looked at Sara until she looked at him.

And then he asked her, "Have I ever taken you to New York?"

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When I was twelve, Mom took me on Pharaoh's Fever. I threw up right after I got off it. I hadn't been on a rollercoaster since, but I did have that one picture of me on the ride. So at least I could say I tried it.

But being dead and riding a rollercoaster isn't anywhere near as scary as being alive and going on one. Not a lot can hurt or frighten you when you're dead.

On the way to the hotel, Gil convinced Sara that they had to wait in the line to ride up front. She didn't look too happy about the whole thing. That's something else we have in common. But Gil was really excited about it, and I guess she saw that because she went along with him. Just like I'd ridden with Mom even though I knew I was going to throw up if I did.

In the line, Sara asked Gil why they were there. His answer was really weird. "Because even though it hasn't been nine years and thirty-four days, I want to share this with you."

I don't think Sara got it either, but it sure made her smile.

When it was finally their turn to ride, I wedged myself between their seats. I didn't need to be strapped in. Gil probably would have held her hand, but Sara was holding on really tightly to the handles on her safety harness. When we moved, she shut her eyes so hard they almost disappeared from her face.

I wish I could have felt something, but it wasn't really any different than being on the ground. We went up, we went down, we went all around. Gil was laughing. Like, actually laughing. I hadn't heard him laugh before.

Somewhere around the second big fall, Sara opened her eyes. She probably couldn't see Gil very well around her harness, 'cause she looked too afraid to turn her head much, but she could definitely hear him laughing. Maybe she hadn't ever heard him laugh like that either.

When the ride was over and they got off, you could tell that Sara was a little woozy. But she grabbed Gil and gave him a big kiss, right there in front of everybody.

"What was that for?" he asked her when she let go of him.

All she said was, "Thank you."

Whatever the rollercoaster was supposed to do for Sara, it must have done. Gil is kind of smart.

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Big hugs to everyone reading this story and enjoying it and feeling for Courtney. Of course, I'm always grateful to my beta, PhDelicious, for her help, but she was especially great with this chapter, taking the time to go over it with me almost line by line.

Warning! There are minor spoilers in this chapter for 7x02.

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Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

My mom never drank while I was alive. It was one of the bad habits she gave up when she became pregnant with me. My dad was the other. Not ever having a father isn't as bad as you might think. It's like if you were born blind. You wouldn't ever know what you were missing.

So, the woman who saw me get into my killer's car was the first drunk person I ever saw, except on TV. By the time Gil and Sara sat down to talk to her, she wasn't even all that drunk anymore. I kind of would have liked to have seen her when she was. Kids at my school talked about getting drunk all the time, but I never even had a sip of wine. Even at church it was just grape juice.

"Judy Jones?" Sara had a cup of coffee with her when she and Gil went into the room at the police station. "Triple sugar, double cream. Just like you wanted."

The woman's eyes couldn't seem to focus on Sara. They were really red and she kept blinking them. Her hands were shaking when she took the coffee. She didn't say 'thank you.'

Gil let Sara do most of the talking. He did that a lot, I noticed, when they were interviewing suspects or even just talking to Greg and the others. Sometimes he'd just sit back and watch her talk. I guess that's what happens when you really like someone. Anything they do is interesting.

"So, Judy," Sara started. "Tell us what you saw at the McDonald's."

I guess I always figured that if you knew something about a crime, you just told the police. 'Cause it was the right thing to do. When Captain Brass said there was someone who'd seen me the day I was killed, I was so happy because it was like there was finally someone who could talk for me. She was going to describe my killer and my killer's car, and Gil and Sara would solve my murder.

I never even thought that it wouldn't be that easy.

"McDonald's?" Judy said, like she'd never heard of one.

Maybe she just didn't remember. Maybe she was still drunk. I crossed my fingers really tightly.

"You told Captain Brass that you saw Courtney Wallace on the day she disappeared. You said she got into a car at the McDonald's on Bellevue. Do you remember?" Sara was using her slow voice, making sure Judy got every word.

"McDonald's has pancakes," Judy blurted out.

She wasn't still drunk. She was just hungry and wanted food. And she wasn't going to tell them anything until they got it for her. This probably should have made me feel sorry for her. But it didn't. It just made me mad.

And I think it make Sara mad, too. She looked at Gil. He lowered his eyelids, and I think that meant something to Sara because she looked at the guard who was standing by the door. "Can we get some pancakes for Judy, Officer?"

"And sausage!" Judy added. She was smiling. I told myself that she had no idea I was standing behind Gil and Sara, watching all of this. Maybe she would have been more helpful if she'd known.

But maybe not.

"While we're waiting, can you tell us about Courtney Wallace?" Sara had my file with her. She opened it up to a big copy of my school picture. "She was fourteen. She probably liked pancakes, too."

I loved them. And I really liked that Sara knew that.

Judy looked at my picture. "I saw her. She got into a car."

"What kind of a car?"

"White," Judy said.

"Do you remember anything else about it? Was it big or little?"

Judy didn't smell very good, and it got a lot worse when she lifted her arms up and started scratching her head. Gil and Sara didn't seem to notice. Or maybe they'd just smelled too many dead bodies to be bothered by it. "Little," she said. "One of those Jap toys. Four doors."

"That's really good, Judy." Sara looked to make sure Gil was writing it all down. "Anything else?"

Judy tipped her head back to drink the rest of her coffee. "Nope."

I guess it was stupid to hope she'd noticed the license plate number or the dent on the side door. But maybe she had, and she was just trying to get lunch, too.

"What about the driver?" Sara asked. "Did you see him?"

"Kind of."

Sara looked like she really wanted to stop being so nice to Judy. And I think Gil knew it because under the table, he squeezed her knee. She took a deep breath and went on. "Just tell us what you can remember about him."

"He was white."

Sara's eyes got kind of narrow. "How close were you to the car?"

"Not very."

Gil was really squeezing her knee now. "Could you see enough of his face to describe it to an artist?" she asked, getting louder with each word.

"Nope."

"Okay, I've tried to be nice." Sara leaned forward. "A young girl was raped and murdered. You are the only person who saw the man who did it. Now I want to know everything. Every detail. And I don't want to have to keep pulling it out of you! So if you want your damn pancakes, you'll start talking!"

It was cool seeing Sara get mad over me. It felt like being hugged.

Judy looked really surprised at first. And then she glared at Sara. But I think she finally figured out that Sara wasn't joking.

"He'd be old to you." She pointed at Sara. "Not to you." She pointed at Gil. "He had glasses. He didn't have to grab her. She got in on her own. Stupid kid."

That wasn't fair! My killer wasn't a stranger, and they only ever tell you not to go with strangers. I really wanted Sara to get mad at her again. I think Gil thought she was going to, because he kind of took over. "Anything else?"

"I was on the other side of the parking lot. They keep the dumpsters there. That's all I saw." Gil didn't blink as he stared at her. He can have a pretty mean stare when he wants to, the kind that makes you squirm in your seat. "I swear!" She bit her thumbnail.

I didn't like it when he stared like that, even though it worked. It made me remember things I didn't want to remember. I stood closer to Sara until Gil went back to looking like Gil. Until I stopped hearing my killer grunt my name in my ear.

"Okay, Judy," Gil said very quietly. "Stay put. Your breakfast will be here soon." He stood up and waited for Sara to stand, too.

I followed them out into the hallway.

"I know," Sara said before Gil could say anything. "I lost my cool. I just hate when they hold out for food."

"People who live on the streets are in perpetual survival mode, Sara. You can't blame someone who eats out of a dumpster for being opportunistic." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Besides, we didn't leave empty-handed."

She nodded. "A white sedan. Japanese make. I'll cross-reference the DMV database for male drivers over age 40."

"Judy said Courtney seemed comfortable with the man in the car. Maybe we should start looking around her neighborhood."

I wish they could have heard me. It would have saved them a lot of time.

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Gil and Sara weren't always working on my case. They had lots of cases from before I was murdered, and a lot more that happened afterwards. It's not that I wasn't interested in seeing them try to solve other people's murders, but most of the time when they weren't working on my case, I would go hang out with my mom, who I thought was starting to do a little bit better.

I don't know if any of the other people who were murdered stayed with Gil and Sara while they worked. I never saw anybody else. I don't think ghosts, if that's what I am, can see each other any more than living people can see them.

And if there's a heaven or a hell or something like that, no one was showing up to tell me about it.

I didn't go to my killer's very often. But one time when I went, my clothes weren't lying on the bed anymore; they were in a box underneath it. For five whole weeks, ever since I was murdered, just my picture had hung on the wall. Now, there was another picture hanging beside it, another girl who kind of looked like me. I think she's next, but I can't warn her. And I can't tell Sara she's in danger.

After seeing the picture, I went back to Sara. It wasn't that I felt safer when I was with her, because I knew nothing could actually hurt me anymore. I just liked being around her.

She wasn't with Gil that day. She was with Catherine at a restaurant having lunch. I guess they were better friends than I thought. Maybe they just didn't like to talk at work, which was the only place I'd ever seen Catherine. She was pretty, too, but in a different way than Sara. If you saw Catherine, right away you'd know she was pretty. You could look at Sara for a long time and not get that she was beautiful. But when it finally hit you, it was like you couldn't believe you didn't get it all along.

I sat next to Sara in the booth while they ate and talked about some work stuff. I guess they'd worked together on a case a long time ago, and the killer they'd caught was finally going to have a trial. I kinda got the feeling that they didn't like talking about this case, but they couldn't really get out of it.

"I don't even know why I'm on the witness list," Sara said. "I wasn't an active part of the investigation."

Catherine shrugged. "You IDed Svetlana. You were present at Melton's initial interview."

"Yeah, but I wasn't around for anything else after that, was I?" They looked at each other. "Well," Sara said. "Water under the bridge, right?"

"Right." They'd both ordered salads, but only Sara was actually eating hers. My mom does the same thing. She orders one because she thinks it's healthier. But she'd rather have a burger. Catherine was poking at her lunch with her fork. "I was just thinking the other day...as horrible as the kidnapping was, in a lot of ways, it solved problems that maybe we didn't even acknowledge existed."

Sara nodded. "I think it did. It made everything…clearer."

I wanted to know more about the kidnapping. Was it another kid like me? But they didn't say anything else about it.

Catherine gave up on her salad and just drank her iced tea. "I wish they all ended like that. I hear you have a rough one right now. The Wallace case?"

I sat up a little straighter, like I always did when someone started talking about me.

"Courtney," Sara said. "I just keep wondering…did she realize in that spilt second before death that she'd never get to do all the things you're supposed to be able to do after fourteen?" Sara had stopped eating, and was just staring at her food. "And I will never understand how someone could look at that beautiful girl…and want to destroy her."

I put my head on Sara's shoulder, but she didn't feel it.

"I get to be a little more selfish," Catherine said. "I just thank god it wasn't Lindsey. But it so easily could have been."

"How is she doing?" Sara asked. Her voice got a little softer.

"She has nightmares. I got her in to see a counselor. Best in Vegas. "

"Expensive."

"Sam was generous even in death." Catherine cleared her throat, like people do when they're tired of talking about something.

Sara must have noticed because she changed the subject. "We're closing in on a suspect. We've got about a hundred possible matches from the DMV. We're going through them one by one." Sara stabbed her salad with her fork. "Some cases you can leave at the lab. This one goes home with me."

I don't think I've ever been quite as happy I was when I heard that. At least not since I'd died.

"It happens." Catherine looked at her lunch. Not a lot of it was gone. "I don't know how you can eat this bunny feed." She caught the waitress as she passed by. "Can I get a hamburger? Medium. With onions." She looked at Sara who was trying not to smile. "Yeah, yeah, what can I say? I'm weak."

"That…" Sara said, "…is not a word I'd ever use to describe you, Cath."

Catherine did this tossing thing with her hair. "No one would dare."

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

After lunch, I got into Sara's car with her. I thought she was going home, and I figured that if she didn't mind me going with her, I actually would. But she didn't go home. She went to Gil's house.

I followed her up the steps and waited while she looked through her key ring until she found right one. She opened the door and went inside. I went with her. I don't really know why.

Gil was lying on his couch. He must have fallen asleep reading because he had a book lying across his chest. Sara walked over and carefully picked it up and put it on the coffee table. It still woke him up.

He tried to say something, but she put her fingers on his mouth, then bent down and kissed him.

What Sara had said earlier about never getting to do all the stuff you get to do when you're older…I don't think I realized it when I died. I realized it right then. They were kissing, and she was trying to get out of her shirt, and I just thought…that won't ever happen to me. No one's ever going to love me like that.

My killer didn't love me. My killer just wanted to hurt me. There's a big difference, and I get that now. What Gil and Sara were doing…it wasn't going to hurt her. And for just a second, I really wanted to be her. Just to see what it would be like when you wanted it. When someone didn't force it on you.

I left because it was the nice thing to do. I went back to my house. My mom was unloading groceries. She'd bought a couple bottles of wine.

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To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Big, massive, huge thanks to Sue aka Golden Grasshopper who served as beta for this chapter while PhDelicious was out of town. Also, as ever, my thanks to everyone reading:) Also, there are spoilers in this chapter for 7x04 "Fannysmackin", so proceed with caution.

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Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

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There were a lot of old guys in Las Vegas who drove white, Japanese cars. But something must have been wrong with the search, because my killer's name didn't come up on the list that Sara made. I know because I was with her when she ran down all the names and compared them to people in my neighborhood and at my school.

I could tell Sara was really frustrated when she crossed out the last name. It had taken over a week and she didn't really have anything new. Plus she had another case that she was in the middle of. I'd just had a lot of fun watching her kick a dummy.

She put her head on her arm for a long time. She probably would have stayed like that a lot longer if her phone hadn't rung.

"Sidle," she answered like she always did, even when she knew it was Gil. She listened, and while she listened, I noticed that her face got really pale. "Is he all right?" She listened some more and I think she almost dropped her phone. She had to catch it with her other hand. "I'll be right there. What? No, Sofia…I'm not waiting for Grissom to assign anything. I'm coming now!"

She drove like crazy to get to wherever we were going, and once we were there, she just jumped out and ran. She didn't even shut her car door. I ran with her all the way to the crime scene. But I stopped when I heard Greg's name.

I hadn't ever seen that much blood. My murder was pretty blood-free. But Greg…someone had really hurt him. I was afraid that the blonde detective was lying to Sara, and he really was dead. I think Sara thought that, too.

Sara took one of his hands and I put my hand over his other one. She stroked his hair and they talked for a little while before the paramedics put him on a stretcher and took him away.

She hadn't cried in front of him, but once Greg was gone and she was back in her car, she cried so hard her whole body shook.

I went to see Greg in the hospital. He looked so awful. All purple and swollen. But I felt like I should stay with him. He'd been there for me those times when I'd sat with him after watching my killer rubbing up against my clothes. Now I was going to get to be there for him.

The first time he managed to get his eye open, I was sitting right next to his bed. No one else was there, not even the nurses. It was just him and me.

He blinked the one eye and looked around as much as he could. And even though up until then I really thought that there was no way anyone living could see anyone who was dead…I think he saw me.

I waved at him. Greg lifted his arm and wriggled his fingers at me before he fell back asleep.

Later on, he told Nick that he saw dead people. Nick told him it was the drugs, and that when he'd been in the hospital, he'd seen Elvis.

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Gil met my killer for the first time two months after my body was found. But it didn't have anything to do with my murder. At least not at first.

The other girl on my killer's wall had gone missing. Marissa O'Brian. She was in seventh grade at a different junior high than the one I'd gone to. Gil and Warrick were working to find her. They wouldn't find her alive. I hadn't watched her murder, but I saw her clothes on my killer's bed.

My killer was on a list of people who knew Marissa. Gil knocked on my killer's door two days after she disappeared. Seeing them together was so weird. I wished Sara was there. She would have recognized my killer from my funeral, I know she would have. But Gil hadn't seen my killer there. And he didn't know that Captain Brass had already been to this house.

"Hello," Gil greeted my killer. "My name is Gil Grissom. I'm with the Las Vegas Police Department. I'm investigating the disappearance of Marissa O'Brian."

"Yes, I was so sorry to hear about that," my killer said. "I'm praying that you find her safe. She's a great kid."

"You do know her then?"

My killer nodded. "I did a little tutoring over the summer to help pay the bills. She was one of my students."

"When was the last time you saw Marissa?"

"Oh gee." My killer pretended to think. "Our last session was sometime in late July."

"You haven't seen her since?"

"No. Sorry."

I wanted to scream at Gil, to tell him to go inside. He'd find the clothes and our pictures and it would all be over.

"May I ask where you were two days ago?"

"Fishing at Lake Mead," my killer said.

I looked at Gil. He was looking my killer straight in the eye. "Catch anything?"

"Three striped bass."

Gil smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "Thank you for your time."

He drove us to the police station, and we walked straight to Captain Brass's office. "Jim," he said. "Can you run a background check on William Lapinski?"

Captain Brass was eating lunch. Turkey sandwich. It looked really good. "Why do I know that name?"

Gil frowned. "I don't know. Why do you know that name?"

He was still chewing as he pulled out some files from his drawer. He'd swallowed by the time he found what he was looking for. "William Lapinski. 12528 Caldwell St?"

"Yes."

"I interviewed him." Captain Brass handed the file to Gil. "He was Courtney Wallace's science teacher."

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It's really weird, but every now and then, I can remember Mr. Lapinski. It gets fuzzier each time, but he's still there, somewhere really deep in my mind. The first time I remembered him was the night my body was found. Even though I like Gil now, I only seem to think about Mr. Lapinski when I see him. But it's not Gil's fault. He can't help having grey hair and glasses.

There's Mr. Lapinski who taught me the difference between a stalactite and stalagmite, and had this paperweight that looked like a rock on the outside, but was filled with beautiful purple crystals inside. And then there's my killer who tied me up, tore me open and put his hands around my throat until I stopped breathing. Even though they have the same face, they're two totally different people to me.

And I want to keep them that way. Because I really liked Mr. Lapinski. He never creeped me out or anything. I wouldn't have gotten into his car if he hadn't always been nice to me. It's almost like my killer also killed Mr. Lapinski. And now my favorite teacher is just this memory I sometimes have when I see someone who looks like him.

I really don't think Mr. Lapinski wanted to turn into my killer. He just wanted to be with me like Gil and Sara were together on Gil's sofa. He took me to the lake because he thought I'd like it there. But I didn't want to be with him like that. So I kicked and I hit and I tried to get away. So he had to tie me up with the bright green cords he had in his trunk. Maybe if I'd just let him do what he wanted, he would've let me go home.

It was my fault I got killed. I did something to make Mr. Lapinski want me like that. I just don't know what it was.

Whatever it was though, Marissa must have done it, too.

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"William Lapinski," Sara said it out loud, like she was testing it out. "Forty-one years old. Las Vegas resident. He's taught earth science at McKinley Junior High for the past three years. Before that, he lived in…Idaho. Huh, land of the potato."

Gil did this little half-smile thing he does. "I think they have corn, too."

"By all accounts, he's a dedicated teacher. His credit is great. He's only ever had parking tickets. He's still single at forty-one, but…" She looked at Gil. "…that's not always an accurate gauge for abnormality." With a big sigh, she put the file down. "But he knew both of the victims. It's a link, but will it get us a warrant?"

"We've gotten warrants based on less."

Sara sat on the edge of his desk. I sat next to her, swinging my legs back and forth. I was nervous. It was like they were so close. But I had this weird feeling that it just wouldn't be so easy. "Forty-one seems a little young for Judy Jones's description of an older man."

"I was finding grey in my late thirties."

She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "But it looks so good on you."

He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "There's something about this guy," he said. "I can't describe it. He just…"

"Creeped you out?"

Gil gave her his look. He only ever used it when she teased him. "He was too smooth. Like he'd rehearsed all of his answers a hundred times in the mirror."

He probably had. He was a really good liar. I remembered all the lies he'd told me.

_Come on. I'll give you a ride. You don't want your ice cream to melt before you get to enjoy it, do you?_

_This is a back way to get to your house. Takes a little longer, but it's prettier, don't you think?_

_I only want to kiss you. Just one little kiss and I'll take you home._

_It won't hurt for long if you just lie still!_

_I love you, Courtney. I never wanted to hurt you…_

"And his alibi," Gil went on. "He gave the same one to Jim. Fishing at Lake Mead."

"Gives him a nice, neat excuse if we find any trace from the lake on his car," Sara said, crossing her arms. "Do we know what kind of car he drives?"

"According to the DMV, a 1994 Chevy Cavalier."

"Not even foreign," Sara said. "Much less Japanese."

"It's small and sporty. Easily confused for a Japanese make by someone who drives a shopping cart."

"Is it white?" she asked.

Gil nodded.

"Well, that could get him in a line-up. We could see if Judy Jones picks him out." She was quiet for a second, and I knew something was bothering her. I was a little surprised. I really thought she'd go after anyone who might be my killer. But it turned out Gil was the one who wanted to put handcuffs on him. Sara looked like she wasn't quite ready.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"It's just...monsters like this take years to build up. You know that. If I'm finding it hard to believe that a mild-mannered science teacher from Idaho woke up one morning and couldn't resist kidnapping, raping and murdering Courtney Wallace, what will a jury think?" She got off his desk. "I trust your instincts above anyone else's. Even my own. But if this is our guy…I don't want him getting off on some technicality because we got ahead of the evidence."

I think I understood most of what she was saying. She just wanted to be sure. That was okay. Gil must have thought so, too, because he closed his eyes in a way that I'd learned meant he was giving in, and letting Sara have her way.

She kissed his forehead. "I'm stopping by Greg's on my way home to check on him. He asked for some paperwork to keep busy. Do you have any of his case reviews ready?"

Gil handed her a stack. I decided to go with her. Greg was getting better, but he never smiled anymore. I wondered if I'd ever hear him sing again.

"Sara." Gil stopped us before we left his office. "I don't tell you often enough how I feel about you, do I?"

"You don't have to," she said. "I'm not blind." He nodded with this small, happy smile. "You could come with me. Greg would love to see you."

"I just need to finish something here," Gil said. "I'll swing by later."

Even though I wanted to see Greg, I got curious about what Gil was up to. Besides, I could see Greg whenever I wanted to. It's one of the only fun things about being dead. You just think yourself somewhere and you're there.

As soon as she was gone, Gil opened up his laptop. I went around behind him so I could see what he was doing. He logged on to the FBI database, which was pretty cool. Some of the really sad computer nerds in my class had talked about trying to hack into the CIA or the FBI. Gil just signed right on.

I watched him type in the search engine.

_Idaho. 1980 – 2003. Sexual assaults on minors, missing girls, unsolved murders._

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To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: To follow.

* * *

Courtney Wallace

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_If we don't stand up for children, we don't stand for much. - Marian Wright Edelman_

* * *

I think I made Gil go away.

He already had so much going on with some crazy guy who kept leaving him tiny little crime scenes. Okay, I know they were really creepy to everyone else, but to me they were a lot of fun to look at. I never had a dollhouse, but I always wanted one. I liked going to craft stores and looking at the tiny little books and chairs and dishes they sold. So I spent a lot of time looking at the models in Gil's office.

When he wasn't looking at them with me, he was reading lots of case files from Idaho. I don't think he found what he was looking for though. Every time he finished with one, he'd throw it aside and curse.

Maybe my killer wasn't lying. Maybe I was his first girl.

Gil never read any of the files from Idaho in front of Sara. I don't think he wanted her to know what he was doing. But maybe if he had let her help him, it wouldn't have gotten to him so much. It wouldn't have made him so tired that he had to get away from everything.

He left in a cab, not too long after the guy he thought made the little crime scenes killed himself. I was with my mom when it all happened, trying to get her to wake up after she passed out from too much vodka. But I knew it really upset him because he never talked about it. Not even with Sara.

He said goodbye to her at the lab before he left, but he could have done it better. He should have kissed her or something. Sara went back to Gil's place, and didn't get out of bed for a whole day. She even called in sick to work. I sat with her on the pretty sheets in case she needed me, but she never cried. She just kind of lay there, like she didn't have any reason to get up.

I felt awful. If only there was some way I could tell her about my killer. Then she could arrest him and Gil could come home and they'd be happy again.

She went back to work the next day, and every day after that. But she wasn't the Sara she was before. She only smiled when she had to, and even then it didn't make her whole face light up like it used to. I was kind of ticked that no one else, not even Greg, noticed. Or if they did, that they didn't do anything about it.

Actually, I kind of missed Gil, too. I probably could have gone to him if I wanted to, but I was afraid to see him. Maybe he wasn't missing her as much as she was missing him.

* * *

They found Marissa's body in the mountains three weeks after Gil left. There wasn't a lot left of her. The bugs had really gotten to her. Still so gross. But kind of better when it wasn't my body they were crawling all over.

The guy who'd come in to take Gil's place got put on the case with Sara. I was hopping all around them at the crime scene. My mom used to say I was all wound up when I was like that. I just liked watching Sara work. She was so neat, and nothing ever grossed her out. I knew that if my killer had left something behind, she could figure out that Marissa's killer was my killer, too.

But my killer was even more careful with Marissa than he had been with me. He took everything with him, even her purse. He'd left mine behind. It took Sara awhile to figure out who she was for sure, and even longer time to find out that the DNA inside of her matched the DNA left inside of me.

By that time, my killer had packed all his stuff into his car and moved to Los Angeles.

* * *

If Sara was still mad at Gil when he came back, she hid it really well. He looked really happy to be home. I decided to be mad at him for her, since all she seemed to want to do was kiss him when they were alone.

I didn't stay mad for long. After the guy who'd taken over for him died, Gil got all of his cases. And that included Marissa's.

"Two victims," he told Sara. They were on the floor in her living room, eating pizza. I was sitting between them. Food had stopped making me hungry. I didn't know if that meant anything, but when I first died, every time I saw something that I liked to eat when I was alive, it smelled good to me. Not anymore.

"He knew both of them," Gil went on. It was a good thing Sara had shaved his beard off, or he might have gotten sauce all over it. He wasn't really paying attention to his food. He was concentrating too hard. "I want to get into his house, Sara."

She smiled at the sauce on his lower lip. Even though they had plenty of napkins, she kissed it off and licked her lips. "We need more for a warrant."

"His car, Judy's physical description, the fact that he taught both victims…we've gotten warrants with a lot less."

"I just hope we land the right judge," Sara said, sighing. "One who doesn't hand out warrants based solely on DNA evidence."

Gil looked like he was about to start an argument with her, but his cell phone rang and he couldn't. He got up off the floor and answered it. "Grissom." He listened for a second, then looked at Sara. His face got really pale.

"What is it?" she asked very quietly.

"Yeah, Jim. I understand. We'll bring our kits." Gil closed his phone and stared at it for a second. "Jim went back to Lapinski's for a follow-up interview." He paused. "Apparently…he's disappeared."

Sara set down her half-eaten slice. "He skipped town."

I already knew that, but it still made me feel awful to hear it, and to hear how upset Sara sounded about it.

They went to my killer's empty house, but there wasn't much for them to do. My killer had taken all of our clothes, mine and Marissa's. Our pictures, too.

But my killer hadn't taken everything. In the garage, Sara found the ropes that had been tied around my wrists. She took them back to the lab. Greg processed them, which he normally didn't do anymore. I knew he used to though, so it made me feel really special that he'd do that for me. He found skin cells on them. My skin cells.

That's when they really started looking for my killer. But he was gone. And it seemed like he'd gotten away with it all.

* * *

Life…if I get to call it that…kind of settled into a routine for a few months. Gil and Sara worked a lot of cases, mostly together. He got another little crime scene; I still loved to look at them, all lined up in locked plastic boxes in his office. So did the guy in the lab that they all called Hodges. He was always in there, poking around.

Greg got a lot better, but I don't think he ever just forgets what happened to him, even for a few minutes. You can see it when he looks at you. Or looks through you.

Sara never forgot me. Every week or so, she would take out my file and look over it. But then she started to get busier and busier with more and more cases, and it started being every other week. I don't think Gil wanted to think about me. And I was kind of glad. I didn't want to be the reason he had to go away again.

Things changed for me, too. I didn't just stop being hungry; I stopped smelling. And then I couldn't feel the ground underneath me. It was like I was floating sometimes. It started to get harder to move from place to place. I really had to work to make myself appear in my mother's house or Sara's apartment. Mostly I just stayed in the lab. It was too hard to watch my mother drunk, and know that I was the reason for it. And Sara didn't stay in her apartment anymore, anyway. I couldn't understand why she just didn't move into Gil's place. Or marry him.

I really wanted to see their wedding.

I didn't think about my killer all that much, but whenever I did, things seemed to go back to normal for a little while. Like I could smell Greg's buffalo wings warming in the microwave. Or it felt like I was actually standing on the ground for a minute. Sometimes, like if I really thought about how much it had hurt to have my killer push inside of me, it almost seemed like I could reach out and touch Sara or Gil, and that they might feel it.

When I stopped thinking about my killer, I went back to feeling like I wasn't really all there anymore. Time went by really fast, and I missed days or sometimes weeks. It's weird, but it's like I was more real, more alive when I remembered.

And then one day, nine months after I first met her and Gil at Lake Mead, Sara got a phone call from an officer in Los Angeles.

"They've got him," she told Gil when she finally hung up. He didn't know what she was talking about, so she had to explain. "William Lapinski."

Gil took off his glasses, like he always does when he's really interested in something.

"They caught him trying to abduct an eleven year old girl from a shopping mall in Anaheim." Her voice kind of broke down right then.

"Is the girl all right?" Gil asked.

Sara nodded and wiped her cheeks with her hand. That's when I noticed she was crying. "She's fine. She's…lucky." He took her hand away from her face and held it. "He's being sent back here." She stopped, like she needed a big breath to go on. "We've got him."

I tried to reach for her hand, but instead of being able to hold it like I used to, my fingers went right through her.

* * *

I was standing with Gil and Sara, watching through the little window, as my killer sat across from Captain Brass. His hands were cuffed behind his back. Captain Brass was talking to him about my DNA on the ropes in his house, but my killer wasn't saying anything back. It wasn't like he could say all that much to defend himself, although I knew from watching Captain Brass in this room before that most people at least tried. But the police in California searched my killer's car, and found my clothes and Marissa's. Our killer didn't even ask for a lawyer.

"I thought he'd look…scarier," Sara said out loud. She shook her head. "I might have gotten into his car, too. Especially if he was my teacher."

I don't know why, but hearing that made me feel so much lighter. But it made Gil clear his throat and slip his hand out of hers.

When Gil and Sara walked into the room a minute later, I followed them. Captain Brass got up and let Sara sit down. Gil sat next to her, and I stood behind them, and we sort of faced off against my killer. It was kind of neat.

None of them said anything for a long time. Finally, Sara opened the file Captain Brass had brought with him and took out a picture. It was of me. My junior high yearbook photo.

She put it in front of my killer. She only had one question. "Why?"

My killer didn't look at her…just at my face. "She was my best student." Gil leaned back a little, like he needed to get far away from my killer. "She was so smart. Always asking questions, looking to me for the answers." Gil's eye twitched. "I wanted to teach her everything. I loved her."

"You didn't love her." Sara spit out her words, like she wished they could hurt my killer. "You destroyed her."

"She was beautiful," my killer whispered, looking up at Sara. "And sexy."

Before Sara could even lunge at my killer, Gil put his arm out to hold her back. "Tell us what happened," he asked. His teeth were clenched. He had his scary face on, but I wasn't scared of him anymore.

My killer smiled. "It was so much better than I'd imagined. She was perfect. So soft. Delicate." My killer's eyes closed. "Tight."

Sara pushed Gil's arm away and jumped out of her chair. She walked all the way to the other end of the room, and stood there, staring at the wall. She balled up her fists so hard that her knuckles were white.

Gil looked at my killer. He made his voice low enough that only my killer and I could hear him. "When they put the needle in your arm, I'm going to be there to watch. And after, when you're dead, I'm going to go home and celebrate."

He stood up, taking my picture away so my killer couldn't look at it anymore. Even though Captain Brass was in the room, Gil went to Sara and put his arm around her shoulders. They left together.

* * *

That was the last time I saw my killer. I didn't go to the trial. It wasn't a very long one. Sara and Gil talked about it one night at the lab. It only took the jury an hour to find him guilty of killing me and Marissa. Another jury took two hours to sentence him to death.

I was with my mom the night after that happened. Instead of getting drunk, she poured all the alcohol in the house down the kitchen sink. She went to bed with my picture, and when she woke up, she called the grief support group on the card that Captain Brass had given her back when my body was found.

The last time I saw her, she was in a meeting, smiling as she talked with her new friends.

I was at the lab, in the break room, with Greg and Nick and Warrick when a story came on the news about how my killer had decided not to appeal his death sentence. He was going to be executed in two weeks.

"Good riddance," Nick said.

"Amen," Warrick said.

Greg just nodded. When his break was over, he went back to work. The last time I saw him, he was laughing with Wendy, the DNA girl. And he didn't look like he was thinking about that night in the alley at all.

* * *

My killer got a lethal injection and died a year and ten days after I got into his car, thinking I'd be home before my ice cream melted. I wasn't there for it; I stayed with Sara who was glad my killer was being punished, but just couldn't go see it happen. Gil went, just like he had promised. And just like he promised, after it was over, he came home and celebrated by making love with Sara.

It didn't seem wrong to be there with them. It was beautiful, like watching a sunset out in the desert or fireworks on the Fourth of July.

As I watched them love each other, everything started getting brighter. It was like light was closing in around me, wrapping me up in a warm blanket. When they fell asleep, I knew this would be the last time I would get to see them.

"Bye." I kissed Gil's cheek and then Sara's. "Thank you."

I like to think that when their little girl was born nine months later, there was a part of me that lived in her.

But I was far away by then. And there was nothing but peace.

* * *

Fin

A/N: This was a long time coming, I know. It would have probably lingered a lot longer without the help of PhDelicious, and everyone who's ever dropped me a line and asked about it. Thank you so much for reading this story, and for all of your wonderful feedback. It was one of the most difficult I've ever attempted, and I hope you enjoyed it.


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